Klip Klop, Klip Klop;
Outta my way can't stop!
Ridin' my steed down the dusty trail;
Droppin' weak ass bitches without fail!
Masters of battle, elegant as fuck all;
Cavalry's 'ere, no time to stall!
This shit ain't 'bout no punk as lil' ponies;
I be reppin' for the beastly equine beauties!
I hear all y'all be sayin' "horses be whack!";
But I'd like to see ya go 88 with a midget on yo' back!
Step off motorists, why you gots to be hatin;
Internal combustion just be weak ass emulatin'!
Features ain't nothin', Bluetooth an' GPS, no threat;
I'm a mother fuckin' cowboy, only direction is sunset!
Camels 'n' mules, whatever, just plain hacks;
Ain't never seen a llama on these here tracks!
Nothin' can match up, kings among playas;
Takin' down QB's in the motherfuckin' himalayas!
Slayin' dragons, conquerin' nations, no prob';
They'll drop you down an' make you sob!
Peace, motherfuckers.
Gankro, with each new stanza of yours I read I feel more and more that you are the reincarnation of Yeats himself. Like him, you are crafting "inspired poetry, which in a highly artistic form gives expression to the spirit of a whole nation".
ReplyDeleteI would like to read a piece by you on the postal service one day.